What If?
by Aruna Hart
Summary: The most powerful word in the universe? IF. If she hadn't run into the store to get groceries…if her credit card had worked…if she hadn't stopped to get gas…if, if, if. Sixty minutes gone. Sixty lousy minutes that changed her life.


A/N: I wish to dedicate this story to the memory of MK who was killed unexpectedly in a freak accident today. There is no comfort in death, only sadness and the memory of those we have loved. Though his time with my family was short, he was very much loved and we will miss him beyond the description of words. ~ Aruna

If she hadn't run into the store to get groceries…if her credit card had worked…if she hadn't stopped to get gas…if, if, if. Sixty minutes gone. Sixty lousy minutes that changed her life.

The day had been the same, like any other million Friday's she been at work. The weekend couldn't arrive soon enough. It was supposed to be the first bright and sunny weekend they'd had since the long, snowy winter began. Finally, it appeared that spring had smiled on them.

Though the forecast predicted a beautiful weekend, the dark sky hinted at an evening rain bringing the darkness of night sooner than expected. It was a foreboding feeling, like something was about to happen. Shivers had gone down her spine remembering when he'd told he a storm was coming.

Thinking back, she cursed herself for not going home straight then. But, she'd ignored the feeling. They needed milk and bread, and if she planned to go on a picnic, they'd need fruit, cheese, and wine. The cheery blossoms were budding and the soft pink petals brightened the sky. It would make the perfect backdrop for lunch on the square and then a romantic walk through the marble statues lining the path.

Along the way through the store she remembered other things that she'd put on her list such as shampoo and tissues. Halfway through the store, a display filled with little square boxes stopped her. It's large poster boasted of mind-bending brain teasers and hours of intrigue. She smiled thinking of him. He often proclaimed that humans didn't think and he was much better at 'mental equivocal thinking.' She couldn't help herself and slipped the game into her basket.

Mentally checking off the items she needed, she went to the counter and placed her items on the belt. She couldn't tell if the cashier was a boy or a girl. The short red hair was cut just long enough that it could work for either. The uniform was an unflattering green, and the shirt was baggy. Kit was the name on the ID tag that was pinned crookedly on the shirt, almost as if it had been a last minute thought. It wasn't until her bagged purchases were back in cart and the cashier named the total that his gender was revealed.

Usually, she preferred to use the debit card, but there was only a hundred dollars in the account until Monday when her check would come. So, for today she would use the credit to get her groceries and gas.

However, the card refused to go through. The bored cashier's eyes opened a little wider. He hit a few buttons and tried the card again. Nothing. The cashier quickly glanced as the growing checkout line, the impatient customers rolling their eyes.

"I'm sorry, the card has been denied. Is there another payment type you can use?" he didn't sound apologetic. In fact, he sounded annoyed.

She shook her head. "I know there's five thousand available on this card. I don't understand…"

"You'll have to call your credit company. There's nothing we can do. I can void your order."

She looked up unsure and heard a groan coming from the people behind her. Phrases like "should have known she didn't have any credit left," "really?" and "dumb blonde" made their way from the crowd to her ears. The fire in her cheeks burned and she wondered how red her face was. She had never been more embarrassed in her life.

She scanned the cart, mentally noting the absolute necessities. Grabbing the non-essential items, she began handing them back to the cashier. "Take these off my order," she commanded.

The total began coming down. She woefully handed the game back, but she didn't have a choice. It was the game or milk and bread. There was always next week. All said and done, she left the store with her now meager order and the twenty previously in her wallet now resting in the till drawer.

A call to the credit card company revealed they had temporarily closed her account due to a security breach. They assured her full access tomorrow, but how was that supposed to help her when she needed to use it today? Out came the debit card again for the gas station. Thankfully, they had budgeted this month's bill very carefully. Five minutes later, she was back on the road again.

The call came at exactly 6:12. She hadn't noticed the first call, missing it when she'd been on the line talking to the credit card company. It was from their house, but it wasn't his voice. Her mother was on the other end.

"Hey, Mum. You won't believe what happened. The dumb credit company…" she stopped. There were strange noises in the background.

"Honey, where are you?" the voice came over the phone quiet, like if her mother spoke any louder she may not be able to speak at all.

"Mom! What's wrong?!" A million thoughts flashed through her mind, but oddly none that involved him.

There was a pause before her mother's weak voice came back over the line. "He's dead," she whispered.

Tears filled her eyes and she nearly wrecked the car behind her because she slammed on the breaks so fast. Her mind refused to process the information. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"He was working outside. The garage door came off the hinge and collapsed on him. He's still here. He's dying. We're watching him die. He's in so much pain." Her mother continued to ramble on, and she realized the older woman was in shock.

"I'll…give me five…five minutes," she managed to mumble through her tears. The phone fell to the floor as the sobs racked through her body. She somehow managed to put the car in park, amid her heaving breaths.

"Please dear God!" she prayed wiping her eyes. "Let him be okay." Maybe her mother had over reacted. "He'll be alright." She chanted, calming herself and easing back into traffic. During the remaining drive, she begged and pleaded with God to make him better. The closer she got, to more earnest her prayer. She started to bargaining.

It wasn't until she was a half a block from their house that she could hear the approaching siren of an emergency vehicle coming from behind her. She pulled into the neighbor's front yard and parked her car. Their drive was filled with flashing lights. Her purse and groceries forgotten, she nearly flew to the house.

The garage door had been moved to the side of the lane. A group of men in blue jumpsuits surrounded a prone figure lying on the cement. He was sitting on a backboard she realized. Their thick bedspread was covering him. She didn't know who'd retrieved it from their house, but wished they would hurry back and get the rest of the covers. She could see him shaking under the fabric. The men looked up and one moved so she could be by his side.

He was pale, so deathly pale it scared her. His eyes were barely opened enough to see the brown iris through he narrow slits. She gently grasped his hand in hers. It was warm, she thankfully noted.

"I'm sorry," she cooed in his ear. "I should have come straight home." She halfway expected to hear his voice, try to acknowledge her somehow, but there was nothing.

She looked up and glared at the men. "When are you taking him to the hospital? Shouldn't you be doing something to help him?" she pleaded.

One or two of the men looked guiltily at what could only be assumed to be their commanding officer, while a few others silently diverted their gaze. The commanding officer spoke up. "Ma'am, he's suffered a crushing injury. The paramedics and doctors have agreed that it's best to keep him here until the chopper arrives." A few men shook their heads and walked away.

They weren't being completely honest. She could sense their hesitation, their unwillingness to crush her. She'd known from the moment she saw him. They were all delaying the inevitable.

Her focus drifted back to the man lying on the ground. He couldn't do this to her. They'd promised forever. Forever didn't end like this. "I love you she whispered bending her head down to kiss his still lips. A surge of joy ran through her body, when she felt him squeeze her hand. But then it was gone. His hand felt limp in her grasp. His eyes were unfocused and glossy. She placed a cheek gently against his chest silently begging to hear the hear the double thump that had resided there. Not two thumps. Not one. Nothing.

'This can't be happening,' she thought still unwilling to accept the truth. She had felt the life leaving his body. She knew that spark was gone, never to return. Yet, if she stopped searching for that last lingering hope, she felt like she'd never recover. He couldn't just leave her like this. Not again. They hadn't even had a proper goodbye.

She pictured the last time she'd seen him. It was early that morning. He was playing with their dog, a small yellow lab he called Dawn. They'd been practicing tricks, and he would get down on all fours, while Dawn jumped over him. She'd meant to take a video, but put it off. 'I'll get it Sunday' she'd thought.

Sunday would never come. He'd taught her that there were certain moments that could never be lived again, and with a dread in her heart, she'd realized that had been one of those moments.

She wouldn't let them take the body away. They stayed and watched for two hours while she gently lifted his hair off his forehead and whispered that everything would be alright.

After two hours, her mother nudged her into the house. Exhausted with grief, she curled up in their bed and let loose the tears she'd been holding back. She cried, sniffed, hiccupped, and almost hyperventilated before drifting into a disturbed sleep for a few moments just to repeat the vicious cycle.

The next morning they went to look at coffins. Caskets. Tombs. Final resting places. There were a million different ways to say it, but none softened the blow.

A long blue one caught her attention. It's color shade was so familiar. It seemed like the appropriate choice. He had spent most his life in a box; why not spend eternity in something that looked like home?

The pin-stripe suit was never questioned. Though recently he'd taken to jeans and tee shirts, she would have felt wrong burying him in anything other than the blue dress shirt, the stripes, and a pair of white converses.

He deserved more than the small viewing and crowd in attendance. He'd given them all so much. But that was in another world and another time. Here, he was just a man. An average man, leading an average life with his average family.

But to her he was so much more. He had been her world, her savior, her worshiper. Who would rescue her now? She had always known that he would come for her, save her from whatever evil befell her. Where did that leave her now? He wasn't coming back. She was alone.

The first few nights after his services she didn't sleep. How could she? Every time she closed her eyes she could hear his sweet, beautiful voice crying out in pain as the metal slowly crushed him. She could hear him begging for help, asking her why she wasn't there.

There was an ache in her chest, a pressure that wouldn't release. The tickle in the back of her throat that would never quite go away when anybody mentioned his name. She would tear up for no reason at any time of the day.

The questions plagued her day and night. She ran through the scenarios in her mind. Sometimes she dreamed she'd gone straight home and they'd gone to the store together. She hated this dream most because it only left her feeling so empty and alone when she woke. At least with the others, fantasy and reality were basically the same: hell.

What if she hadn't run into the store to get groceries…if her credit card had worked…if she hadn't stopped to get gas…if, if, if.

What if the Doctor didn't die?


End file.
